


Harry Potter's Secretary

by mwhite4264



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Post-Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:42:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29048586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mwhite4264/pseuds/mwhite4264
Summary: Astoria Greengrass would rather have any other job. Unfortunately her bank account disagrees, and desperate times call for desperate measures. Astoria Greengrass will have to be careful, because she is sure that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement wouldn't want their employees caught in a rendezvous with a former Death Eater.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass & Harry Potter, Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 12
Kudos: 47





	Harry Potter's Secretary

Astoria Greengrass sat in the newly appointed Head of Magical Law Enforcement’s office, being interviewed by said person, Gerry Gerfmen, a stout, angry sounding man, who was staring at her resume with a suspicious look.

“Slytherin?” he asked, shaking the paper aggressively. Astoria wanted to wilt at his accusatory tone, and merely nodded mutely. The man grunted.

“Nine O.W.L.S? Seven N.E.W.T.S?” he asked. Astoria wondered what the point of a resume was if she had to repeat everything she had put on it. If she did, they could be here awhile.

“Yes sir,” she said, her voice trembling. Mr. Gerfmen grunted again.

“What do you need a job for? Aren’t you rich?” he asked, leaning forward, eyeing her necklace, a simple metal chain that wasn’t even real silver.

“I’ve been disowned,” she said flatly. This was a bad idea. She should have never come here.

“Why?” he asked. She had to fight not to roll her eyes. Why did he think?

“Several reasons,” Astoria said, folding her hands. He continued to stare at her expectantly. “It’s rather private,” she said, again, when it didn’t look like he was relenting.

“If you’re looking for a job that doesn’t look into your background, I’m sure Borgin and Burkes is hiring.”

Astoria sighed. “I decided I didn’t want to get married. I’m here, interviewing for a job, and I’m not going to sit at home complaining about a loss in a needless war. My parents are angry at me for all of the above. Any more questions?” Astoria asked, scathingly.

“Why didn’t you want to get married?”

“That can’t be relevant,” Astoria said.

“You’re a _Greengrass._ I just want to know what you’re doing here.” Astoria sighed and crossed her legs, wishing there was a window to look out of.

“I suppose, it’s less that I didn’t want to get married, and more that I can’t.”

“Can’t?”

“You could say I’m undesirable.” Astoria stood, deciding she was done with this interview. She walked out of the office without a word. She would sleep on the streets. Whatever it took not to go back to that house.

Astoria walked out of the office, the nice heels she wore clicking against the floor. A few heads turned her way and she cringed and kept walking.

She apparated to her deteriorating, dilapidated flat, and stepped inside, frowning when she saw her sister.

“I’ve been blasted off the family tapestry. You aren’t supposed to be talking to me.” Astoria said, eyeing her sister, who had piled her long, blonde hair on top of her head.

“Fuck off. I’m here to _blast_ some sense back into you,” Daphne said, surveying the studio apartment with distaste. Astoria didn’t answer. She kicked off her shoes, sighing, and put the kettle on with a wave of her wand.

“Go for it,” Astoria muttered.

“Come back home. Apologize. Father can remove the burn mark. You just upset him.”

“Oh? Did I?” Astoria said, dumping herself in her single worn armchair.

“Astoria. Please.”

“I’m not going to lie to someone. You seriously thought that their plan was a good one?”

Daphne teared up. “No. I agree with you on that. But, all that other stuff you said? You could take that back.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You said Father was and old fool who had damned our family.”

“He is,” Astoria said, covering her face with her hands.

“He didn’t even fight in the war,” scoffed Daphne.

“Exactly. That’s as good as picking the wrong side.”

“You didn’t fight,” Daphne pointed out.

“I’m aware,” Astoria snapped, leaping to her feet, and striding toward the kettle.

Daphne paused, and stood, grabbing the only teacup in the cabinet, frowning at the chipped handle, and poured the tea in it, handing it to Astoria. “Has Boot owled?”

“No,” said Astoria, turning her back on her sister, taking a sip of the tea.

“How do you feel about that?” Daphne asked, delicately.

“I don’t care,” Astoria lied. Daphne eyed the mattress lying on the floor in the corner and wrinkled her nose.

“You can’t live like this,” Daphne said. “I’m pretty sure the old-house elf quarters are nicer than this.”

“I won’t be living long anyway,” Astoria said, nonchalantly, enjoying the way Daphne gasped and crossed her arms with a guilty sense of pleasure.

“Astoria! Don’t joke. You cannot be serious!”

“You heard the healers.”

“They said you had twenty-five years left. You are going to spend a quarter of a century living here?” Daphne pointed out, narrowing her eyes.

“No. I’ll get a job.”

Daphne winced. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll sneak you money, funnel it out of the family vault. Father won’t ever know, and you can buy a house.”

“No. That defeats the entire purpose of what I’m doing,” Astoria pointed out. Daphne crossed her arms and frowned.

“Fine. You know what? Fine!” Daphne shouted. “I can’t believe this! Mother—”

“Don’t speak of her!” Astoria shouted back, extremely angry at her sister, who had the nerve to come here and lecture her.

“Oh? And why not?”

“You know why,” Astoria said, unable to stop the tears that were falling from her eyes. Daphne softened and sank back into the rickety wooden dining chair, covering her face with her hand.

“What even happened, Astoria? Mother nor Father will tell me.”

“Mother wanted me not to tell Terry about my condition. Said it was better to pretend I found out about it after marriage,” Astoria spat. What had been worse, is that her mother had been right in a way. Terry had run the minute she told him.

“I figured as much,” Daphne said, bitterly. There was a long silence and Daphne’s hand absentmindedly drifted to her stomach.

“Go home, Daph.” Astoria said, tiredly.

Daphne looked hurt. Astoria eyed her sister’s swollen stomach and tried not to feel bitter. “Please,” she added.

“I’m not disowning you. I’m not a Greengrass anymore, and I’m not going to just pretend I don’t have a sister,” Daphne informed. Astoria wanted to point out that being Mrs. Cassius Warrington wasn’t much better, but she stayed quiet. Daphne stood with great effort and placed a hand on her back.

“You shouldn’t be apparating,” Astoria pointed out. “You’ll hurt my niece,” she joked, trying to bring up the one thing that always brightened Daphne, her soon to be born child. Astoria was excited to. Children might be a distant and nigh impossible reality for her, but she could be a good Aunt. Not if she was disowned of course.

“I’m not. I’ll take the Knight Buss.”

Astoria scoffed. “That’s not much better.”

“Yes. Well, if I thought you would come and see me, I wouldn’t have to travel all the way out here!” Daphne shouted, and Astoria felt guilt course through her.

“I’ll come ‘round for dinner on Tuesday,” Astoria offered weakly.

“Fine. Are you coming to Pansy’s wedding?”

No.

“Yes. Who is she marrying?”

“Some American. She said, and I quote, “I’m getting the hell out of here,’ and I don’t blame her. People hate her,” Daphne said, sighing. Astoria winced. Parkinson should have never announced that Hogwarts ought to have handed over Potter. Of course, when a seemingly immortal dark wizard threatens to kill you if you don’t, and you’re a seventeen-year-old girl with an incredibly loud mouth who never thinks before she speaks, then you might make a mistake like that.

“Does he not know about her unfortunate _suggestion_?” Astoria said, sardonically.

“Don’t know. Likely, he doesn’t care. You know how little American wizards pay attention to the rest of the world,” Daphne argued.

“Is he attractive?”

“Yes. He owns a Quodpot team. He’s the whole tall, dark, handsome, and rich.” Astoria frowned. Of course. That’s Pansy Parkinson for you.

“Good for her. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m tired,” Astoria said pointedly, wanting to be alone. Daphne nodded, and left.

Astoria sank onto her mattress, wondering if four o’clock was too early to go to bed.

An owl tapped on the window, and she stood back up, throwing it open and taking the envelope. Who would be writing to her? She grimaced when she saw it was the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, indicated by the seal pressed into the enveloped. She ripped it open, and read the contents of the letter, surprised.

_Dear Miss Greengrass,_

_We are pleased to offer you a position in our reception department. Please owl back with a response of rejection or acceptance. We await your prompt response, and ask that if you accept, to report Monday, next week at 8 a.m. sharp._

_Thank you,_

_Gerry Gerfmen_

_Head of Magical Law Enforcement_

Astoria laughed bitterly. She had applied for a position in their Public Relations department, and now she was to be a secretary. Nine O.W.L.S and seven N.E.W.T.S and she was a secretary. Unbelievable. Well, she didn’t have another option, considering she couldn’t even afford a proper bed and so, she owled back, accepting the offer.

* * *

When Astoria found out she was Harry Potter’s secretary specifically, she thought about taking her sister’s offer, and spending the rest of her days stealing from her father. She didn’t have anything against Potter, and she was beyond grateful he had won the war. But, like any good Slytherin, she was prideful, and couldn’t quite stomach the idea of fetching Harry Potter coffee.

She arrived at eight and was told to wait in his office. She did, sitting still, with her hands folded on her lap. He didn’t even walk into his office until ten, and he looked surprised to see her.

“Oh. Who are you?”

“Your secretary.”

“I said I didn’t want one,” he said, eyes wide. Astoria sighed.

“Well, I do need a job, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention that,” Astoria said.

“Oh. Well, I don’t really need any help.” Astoria eyed his desk, covered in messy papers.

“Is that paperwork from today?”

“Er, I don’t know.”

“You don’t know. What if there is some sort of Death Eater uprising in there?”

“I skim them!” he defended.

“Did you know you had a meeting with the Minister ten minutes ago?” Astoria asked, glancing at the piece of parchment that had likely been a reminder, which had fallen to the floor and was half hidden behind an overflowing wastepaper basket. His eyes winded in horror, and he turned, leaving her sitting there. Astoria rolled her eyes.

She opened the filing cabinet and found it empty. She looked at the stack of paperwork and noticed that there was one dated a year ago. If this is the state things were in, the Dark Lord would be back in ten years. Never mind, there had to be at least ten Death Eaters still at large.

She rifled through a supply closet in the corner, and found a stack of muggle manila file folders, unopened. She began sorting through the papers, and labelling the files, before stowing them in the cabinet.

Potter returned and eyed his clean desk.

“You threw them away?” he asked, looking worried. Astoria wordlessly pointed to the cabinet, and he walked toward it and opened it, examining the neat files with an air of distaste.

“Oh. Thanks,” he said, sounding glum, as if had preferred his papers messy.

“Are you firing me?” Astoria asked, bluntly.

“What? Oh! Er—no. No. I won’t. Just, um.” He seemed as if he didn’t quite know what to tell her to do.

“Is there a place I should go? Or do I just sit here,” she asked. He looked stumped at that one.

“I don’t know.”

“You work here.”

“Only as of six months ago! I just graduated training.” Harry said, sounding exasperated. He took a deep breath. “I’ll ask.”

He left her standing there, and Astoria sighed, sinking back into the chair, rubbing her temples. He came back.

“You have an office. It’s right in front of mine,” Potter said, gesturing out the door at a small empty room that you had to pass through to reach his office. Astoria had suspected that it was hers, but she hadn’t wanted to assume so.

“Great,” Astoria said, moving past him, to stand in the empty room. He gave her an apologetic look.

“I’m sure it will be furnished tomorrow,” he added. She gave him a single, dry laugh. He winced. “I’ll ask,” he said again, leaving.

“I’m supposed to ask,” Astoria called after him. He ignored her. He came back, a few moments later, carrying a box. He placed it on the floor and tapped it with his wand. It sprang open and furniture flew from it, flying about the room. There was a desk, a chair, a filing cabinet, and a bookshelf.

“Thanks,” Astoria said, taking a seat. Potter sighed and headed back to his office, leaving Astoria to glance at the ceiling and wonder what she had done to deserve this. Pansy Parkinson was off with a rich American and here she was, Harry Potter’s secretary. Daphne was going to lose it.

* * *

And so, it began. Every morning, she awoke, dressed, ate, and arrived at her office at eight in the morning. She typed reports from Potter’s notes, followed him around while he talked with witnesses or suspects and taking notes, organized and scheduled meetings, took minutes in said meetings, and handled communication and correspondence. It was dull, and incredibly boring. There was one saving grace; at least Potter got his own coffee. Her plan was to work for a few months and ask Potter to put in a good word for her somewhere else. He undoubtedly would, as she could tell he felt incredibly guilty that she was working for him. He had trouble allowing her to do anything. Not to mention, he was Harry Potter. If he told the entire Ministry of Magic that they were to come to work with a duck balanced on their heads, they would, and they would probably write ballads about it, and declare that day National Duck Hat Day to commemorate Harry Potter’s excellent sense of fashion.

Hermione Granger bustled in, looking a little rattled. “Oh, hello,” she said, breathlessly, as if she had run all the way up.

“Hello,” Astoria returned, her tone clipped and professional.

“Harry said he had a secretary. I told him to get one and I’m glad he listened,” Hermione offered. Astoria didn’t tell her that it had been entirely done behind Potter’s back. “Is he in?” she asked.

“No. He’s investigating a case,” Astoria said, referring to Harry, who was investigating possible Death Eater sightings, and had thankfully, not asked her to come along this time.

“Oh. Well, I need to schedule a meeting,” Granger said. Astoria pulled out the planner and dipped her quill into purple ink, which indicated meetings. Potter only remembered things if they were written in bright, vivid colors. To be completely fair to him, he seemed to be the busiest employee in the entire Ministry, and he had an awful lot to keep track of.

“When?”

“Tomorrow. Is ten o’clock available?”

“No. Can you do noon?”

Granger nodded. “I can.” Astoria wrote it down.

“Is the official or unofficial?” Astoria asked.

Granger looked startled. “Oh. Does it matter?”

“Yes. If it’s official, I have to take minutes and organize an agenda. If not, then I don’t have to be there,” Astoria said.

“Oh! Right. Of course. Well, it’s unofficial,” Granger said.

“Okay,” Astoria said, marking that it was unofficial in the planner. Granger hesitated and seemed to want to ask her something.

“You’re a pureblood, aren’t you?”

“No,” Astoria lied. “Half-blood.”

Granger looked confused. “Oh? But you’re in the pureblood directory.”

“The Sacred-Twenty-Eight?”

“Well, yes,” Hermione said.

“It was written in the thirties. Out of date,” Astoria said, as she began scribbling nonsense on a piece of paper, desperately trying to look busy.

“Astoria. I know you’re a pureblood. Daphne Greengrass is your sister,” Granger said, as though she was fighting to stay patient.

“My father had a sordid affair,” Astoria said, arching a brow. Granger looked a little shocked.

“Really?”

“No,” Astoria confessed. “I am a pure-blood, but I don’t like to be bothered about it. If you are asking if I’m going to stand up and show you my secret dark mark, or if I’m going to profess my undying love for Voldemort, then I’m sorry to disappoint,” Astoria said, bitterly.

Granger looked slightly panicked. “Oh no! Of course not! I just wanted to ask you something. I thought you might know something that could help me.”

Astoria gave another tired sigh. “I don’t know where any Death Eaters are hiding.”

“No! I need to ask you about Purebloods! Just, a few questions, nothing to do with you or the war,” Granger assured.

Astoria narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but nodded her head and Granger took the seat opposite her desk.

“Listen. I’m trying to pass a law with the aim of freeing house-elves, but I’m worried about getting push-back. I don’t mind a fight, but I want to free the house-elves as soon as possible, and so, if I could avoid confrontation, and just get the law pushed through, then I would rather that.”

“And?” Astoria asked.

“Is there a way I could somehow appease the families that would challenge me? Without sacrificing any rights or privileges house-elves deserve?”

“No one will challenge you. The people you speak of are dead, in Azkaban, moved abroad, or are hiding out with what is left of their fortune, wanting desperately to be left alone,” Astoria said, raising her eyebrows.

Granger looked slightly surprised. “Well, yes. But, they seem to oppose our new way of thinking. They never show up to the Ministry’s Victory Ball, even though we invite them as a gesture of goodwill. We want them to acclimate back into society.”

Astoria sighed. “Well, from their point of view, you are throwing a party celebrating the death of their fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, friends, and allies. Even the ones that stayed neutral in the war, still were related to quite a few of the people who died.” They were quite literally, dancing on the graves of the dead.

Granger winced. “Oh. I didn’t think of it like that. It’s supposed to be a memorial, or a celebration of peace!”

“Then call it that,” Astoria said. “Besides, no one wants them there. You might pretend to, but I doubt you really do.”

Granger stood, and said, in a brisk tone, “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind,” before leaving the small office.

* * *

One day, Astoria sat in a meeting with the Minster of Magic, the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, and Harry Potter, as they completely ignored the agenda she had prepared.

“We are looking, Minister, but these Death Eaters have disappeared on the face of the earth. They’re likely hiding with family members in other countries, but we can’t very well start showing up and investigating the homes of citizens of foreign nations,” Gerfmen said.

Astoria wrote:

_Gerfmen: Introduces possible theory that Death Eaters hide in foreign countries._

Kingsley Shacklebolt sighed. “Is there no one we can ask? No other lead? What if we asked someone, like the Malfoys?”

Gerfmen snorted. “Oh, they were most helpful when their freedom was on the line and they were threatened with Azkaban. Now that they’ve been acquitted, they don’t offer us anything.”

Potter sighed. “I don’t think they know anything else. They offered us a lot of information, and it’s gotten us as far as we have. They got us Rodolphus Lestrange and Rookwood. Not to mention Avery Jr. We never would have found them without their help.”

“Their?” Gerfman scoffed.

Potter sighed. “Okay. Draco’s. Narcissa already earned her freedom. She saved my life, and she wanted her family’s freedom in return. Fair trade. Lucius may not have been the most cooperative, but Draco helped us out. A lot,” he added, begrudgingly.

Astoria’s quill moved furiously.

_Minster: Mentions possibility of asking Malfoys._

_Gerfman: Doesn’t believe they would be helpful, on account of their recent acquittance, as they lack an incentive to provide information._

_Potter: The Malfoys have already offered a lot of information and it’s possible they simply have nothing left to give._

_Gerfmen: Sought clarification on which member of the Malfoy family was helpful to the DMLE._

_Potter: Points out Draco Malfoy gave most of the information and reminded Gerfmen and Minister the reasons behind the Malfoys release and continued freedom._

Shacklebolt sighed. “Is it possible that we can send you to ask again?” he asked Potter.

Potter groaned. “I suppose. Or, I could send Astoria.”

Astoria pressed so hard down on the parchment, her quill snapped, and everyone looked at her. “No,” she said. “I can’t.”

“Can’t you schmooze them or something? I thought you were old friends,” Potter asked, hopefully. Astoria raised her eyebrows. She remembered writing on his calendar that he had a date with Ginny Weasley tonight, and she most definitely knew that was the likely reason behind trying to send her.

“Oh yes. I’ll just pop round, do some name-dropping, and walk out with the location of every Death Eater,” Astoria said, sarcastically. “The last time I saw Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy was when I was thirteen. I haven’t seen Draco since school and we were never close. If he remembers my name, I’d be surprised.”

Potter sighed. “Fine. Fine.” He considered her a moment. “They don’t like me,” he added, hopefully.

Gerfmen shook his head. “They won’t like her either. She’s a blood-traitor.” Astoria bristled at the term. “Not to mention, they won’t count her as a Greengrass. She’s been disowned.” Astoria stood, tossing the parchment on the table.

“Excuse me,” she said, leaving the three standing there. She made her way back to her office, knowing that it was a very bad idea to walk out on Harry Potter, the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, and The Minister of Magic.

She entered and tried her very best not to cry. Potter came in a few moments later.

“Hey,” he said awkwardly. Astoria furiously brushed away at her tears.

“Gerfmen is brilliant at his job. He is also a bit gruff and tactless,” Potter supplied, looking slightly panicked at her tears.

“I’m aware.”

“Er, listen. Why don’t you write a letter and ask Draco Malfoy to come here for a meeting? Summon him for tomorrow at ten. That way, you don’t have to go over there, and neither do I.” Astoria nodded, and began to draft a letter and Potter entered his office, shutting the door.

_Dear Mr. Draco Malfoy,_

_You have been officially summoned for questioning for Tuesday, 10 o’clock, September 14 th. You are to report to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to the office of Mr. Harry Potter at the above time. You are to be assured that as of now, you are not suspect of any crime, and are asked to provide possible insight into a current investigation. If the date and time are not in accordance with your schedule due to medical reasons, or personal emergencies only, please write back with the possible times you will be available. If there are no conflicts, please confirm your attendance._

_Thank you for your cooperation,_

_Astoria Greengrass_

_Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

She sent the letter off, and at the end of the day, just before she was about to clock out, she received a response.

_I’ll be there,_

_D.M_

Astoria wrote the meeting down, in bright purple ink on the calendar, and slipped a note under Potter’s door, telling him Malfoy agreed to meet him. Ginny Weasley was in there, and she wasn’t knocking.

The next morning, Astoria was leaving a meeting with the Department of Magical Transportation, which she had attended and took notes for, mostly because Potter didn’t want to go, though he claimed he was too busy to attend. She found him leaning over another Auror’s desk and talking in a low voice. He saw her and jogged to catch up with her.

“Do you have that report for the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures? The one about catching the illegal dragon breeders?”

“No. I gave it to you, remember?” Astoria said, tone clipped. He gave her a guilty look.

“I know. I lost it. I was wondering if I could get the second copy?” He nearly always lost the first copy, so Astoria always had a spare.

“That was the second copy. Ron Weasley spilled your tea on the first.”

“Could you maybe redo it? I have the notes and everything for it, but I just need you to write it up again.” Astoria fought very hard not to scream. She reminded herself that Potter had solved two grisly murders in the last month, and that he was very good at the investigation portion of his job, despite his tendency to lose things. She reminded herself she wasn’t allowed to scream at her boss. She tried to forget that the report had taken her three hours to synthesize.

“Yes. Of course. It will be on your desk later today,”

“Brilliant. Thank you,” he said, returning to the Auror’s desk and resuming his discussion.

Astoria strode into her office, and when the door closed behind her, she said to herself, “Damn stupid Potter can’t remember or keep up with anything I tell him. It’s a miracle he defeated any fucking dark wizard, and if the hero of the wizarding world can’t keep up with his stupid papers, then we’re all screwed! I think I may just hate him!”

“I quite agree,” a voice drawled, and Astoria yelped, whirling around to see a figure lounging in a chair, long legs stretched out quite far. Draco Malfoy. Astoria glanced at her watch.

“You are thirty minutes early!” Astoria hissed, cheeks flushing.

“I’m always early,” he stated, simply, as if she should have been well aware of this fact. He was smirking, clearly immensely pleased by her outburst.

“Let’s keep this interaction to ourselves, shall we?” Astoria said, in her most professional tone, before sitting down and trying to look busy.

“Hm, I don’t know. Dissension spreading in Magical Law Enforcement? Can’t say I’m not tempted to spread the word that Potter’s own employees can’t stand him.”

“Refrain from doing so,” Astoria said, hating that her voice had taken on a pleading tone.

“I might. Can’t say it’s every day I meet someone who hates the Chosen One,” he said. Astoria leapt up, glancing at the door.

“Will you be quiet? I don’t hate him! I didn’t mean it.”

“Sounded like you did, darling.” Astoria glared at him and tried to force down her panic.

“I don’t. Really, he’s very good at his job.”

“I believe your exact words were, “it’s a miracle he defeated any fucking dark wizard,’ and I must say, that doesn’t sound like you think he’s good at his job. Considering his job is to defeat dark wizards.”

Astoria groaned. “Please. Don’t say anything. Okay? I like him. I was angry and said things I didn’t mean.”

“Like him?” Malfoy asked, leaning forward, eyes narrowing. Astoria flushed, and shook her head vigorously.

“I mean I like working with him! Obviously.”

“That all?”

“Yes! As if I would—” Astoria was about to describe all the ways that Potter wasn’t her type, such as how messy he was, how impulsive he was, how he wasn’t altogether self-aware, not to mention the fact he called Hermione Granger in to look at nearly half the cases he solved. However, that would not work in her favor.

“As if I would cross the bounds of our extremely professional working relationship,” she finished.

“And what exactly is your job?”

Astoria turned scarlet. “A secretary,” she mumbled.

“What?”

Astoria took a deep breath. “A secretary.”

“Oh? Wow. I see. So, you fetch coffee. You don’t solve cases.”

Astoria narrowed her eyes. “I’m being promoted soon,” she said, hoping she wasn’t lying.

“To what? Head of the Coffee Pot?”

“I’ll have you know, I’m a very accomplished witch,” Astoria hissed.

“Oh? Are you? Do you organize Potter’s quills?” Malfoy asked, clearly mocking her.

“You’re being incredibly sexist!”

“No, you are. I never said it had anything to do with you being a witch. You, right there, just assumed being a secretary is purely a job for witches.” Astoria’s mouth dropped open and Malfoy’s face was fixed into an expression of mischievous glee, clearly reveling in how upset he was making her.

Just then, Potter entered. Astoria looked at Malfoy fearfully, but his face had become impassive, giving away nothing.

“Hey, sorry to keep you waiting. I actually have to run up to the Minister’s office, but Astoria can update your file with some preliminary information while I’m gone. It shouldn’t take long.” He dropped Malfoy’s file on her desk, and it looked, surprisingly, quite thin. He placed some blank forms on top of it and left. Malfoy didn’t deign Potter with a response.

Astoria dipped her quill into her ink pot and looked at the first question.

“Date of birth?”

“June 5th, 1980. Shouldn’t that be in there?”

Astoria sighed. “We have to update information if there is more than a year passed since the last meeting, interrogation, or questioning. I’m just confirming most of this is correct.”

“Yes. I realized that my mother lied about my date of birth just last night. Glad you asked,” Malfoy drawled, rolling his eyes.

Astoria didn’t rise to the bait. “Wand?”

“Hawthorne. Unicorn Hair. 10 inches.” Astoria wrote it down.

“Okay. Current Occupation?”

“Freelance Curse-breaker.”

“What?” Astoria asked, a little surprised. Malfoy rolled his eyes again.

“Free. Lance. Curse. Breaker,” he said slowly, as if she didn’t speak English.

“I heard. I just—” she stopped.

“Thought no one in Britain would hire me?”

Astoria winced. “Nothing personal. My family didn’t even fight in the war. And here I am, nearly top of my class in Hogwarts, and I’m working as secretary. I’m just surprised, is all.”

“Well, you’re right. I do international work. You’ll find people are a lot less picky in other countries. Besides, if you are as good as I am, people are willing to overlook certain things.”

Astoria leaned forward, in interest. “Do you break curses on witches or wizards?” she asked, almost hopefully. Something in his expression flickered.

Draco scoffed. “No. I’m not a healer.” Astoria tried to hide her expression and wrote down his answer.

“Marital status?” Astoria asked.

“Flirting with me?”

“No! It’s on the form!”

“It’s alright, Greengrass. I wouldn’t mind if you were,” he said, devilishly, leaning across her desk. She swallowed nervously, trying to ignore how attractive he was, and the lean muscle that flexed when he moved.

“Well, I’m not,” she said trying to sound as firm as possible.

“Single,” he drawled, crossing his arms and leaning backwards again, lip twitching.

Astoria, feeling nasty, a little curious, and spurred by his attitude, said, “Parkinson got married.” She was expecting a reaction, but he just smirked.

“If you think I’m harboring love for Pansy, you’re wrong. We weren’t together.” Astoria raised an eyebrow. “Officially.” She didn’t say anything. His smirk deepened. “I found I much prefer a lifestyle with various different casual relationships.” Astoria wrinkled her nose.

“But, while we are on the subject, what happened with Boot?” Malfoy asked, Astoria bristled.

“What?” she choked, hand stilling. It seemed she wasn’t the only one feeling nasty today.

“I said, what happened with Boot?”

“How do you even know about—”

“Daphne mentioned it. We’re friends. I thought since we were going to play nasty, I’d mention him,” Astoria stayed silent. She didn’t believe him. Daphne wouldn’t throw her under the bus like that. “Fine. Boot was talking about you in a pub a few nights ago,” Draco admitted.

“What did he say?” Astoria asked, tone becoming fearful.

Malfoy suddenly, looked guilty, and fixed his gaze firmly on the floor, with an expression that appeared as if he regretted saying anything at all.

“What?” Astoria repeated, heart racing.

“Next question on the form.”

“You can’t just bring it up and not tell me!” Astoria shrieked, her heart racing. What had he said? What had he told?

“Come on, Greengrass. Next question,” he said, tone softening. She was surprised he even knew who she was, and she needed an answer.

“I—”

“Ask the questions. Or, I’ll tell Potter that his secretary doesn’t like him very much.”

Astoria inhaled sharply. “Fine. Any children?”

“No,” he said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Best address to reach you by?”

“My manor. But, I spend a lot of time abroad. So, if it’s urgent, you’ll have to contact my mother. She’ll know where I am.”

“And where does she live?”

“France. A Malfoy property on the coast of Corsica.”

Astoria nodded, and wrote it down. “That’s all I need. Thank you,” she said, primly.

He smirked. “Anytime.”

They sat in awkward silence, and Astoria listened to the sound of the hustle and bustle outside, praying Potter would come back soon. Astoria couldn’t help but feel nervous. What had Terry been telling people? Surely, he wouldn’t divulge private matters. But, she could tell by the look on Malfoy’s face that he definitely had. Just how much?

“Listen. I need you to tell me what Terry said. I need to know what—” she had to stop, and she almost started crying. She took a deep breath, collecting herself. “I need to know what he has been telling people.”

Malfoy ran a hand over his face. “Really?”

“Yes. I have some things I’d rather keep private.”

“Then why’d you tell Boot?”

“He asked me to marry him,” Astoria replied, reluctantly. A look of understanding dawned on Malfoy’s face, followed by a look of disgust. Astoria wanted to crawl under her desk right then and there, as she assumed that he was disgusted by her.

“Sorry. I’m not making a face at you,” he replied, seeing her tense up. Astoria was surprised at his genuine tone paired with a sympathetic look, and if Draco Malfoy was giving her a look like that, it must be worse than she feared.

“I need to know. You have to tell me,” Astoria tried, hating how panicked her voice sounded. He sighed, looking reluctant. “Every word, exactly as he said it,” Astoria said, feeling her palms begin to sweat.

His frown deepened, but he sighed and said, “Are you sure? It wasn’t nice.”

“Malfoy, if he talked about—” she stopped. “Yes. Tell me.”

“Well, he was with a few friends. I think they were old buddies, because they were asking about you, and he told them you had been split up for some time.” Astoria nodded, leaning forward. “His friends asked him why, and. Well, he started talking about a curse. Your curse. He went into the details of what that meant. I’m not going to rehash that. I assume you know.”

“No. I don’t. I have to know exactly how much he told, how much he—”

“Everything. Greengrass. He told them everything about your relationship, curse included. From how you didn’t put out, to how you were cursed, to how you couldn’t have children,” Malfoy said, briskly, as though trying to get it over with.

Astoria felt her heart drop. She needed that to be private. It had to stay private. “How many heard?”

“I was all the way across the pub, in a corner by myself. If I heard, everyone else did too.”

Astoria felt herself start to shake. She had to owl Daphne. Daphne might know what to do. Malfoy noticed and looked at a loss for what to do. He seemed about to attempt some form of comfort.

Just then, Potter walked in. “Hey. I’m back. Let’s go to my office. Astoria, will you take notes?” Astoria nodded mutely, and followed Malfoy and Potter into Potter’s office, taking her quill and her pad of parchment with her.

Potter sat across from Malfoy, who eased himself in the chair. “Greengrass might need a minute,” Malfoy said, giving her a look. Potter looked startled.

“Oh. Astoria? Are you alright?”

“She’s ill,” Malfoy said, and Astoria bristled, before she realized he wasn’t referencing her blood malediction and was merely creating an excuse for her. “Get another secretary in here,” Malfoy ordered.

“I’m fine,” Astoria said, though her voice sounded anything but. Maybe Potter knew she was cursed. Maybe all of Wizarding Britain did. Maybe, the sympathetic look she received from Granger yesterday had nothing to do with Potter’s messy desk, and everything to do with the fact she had heard about her illness. Maybe, Ginny suddenly asking her to lunch, which Astoria had politely refused, hadn’t been a polite gesture of obligation, but rather, a guilty invite.

Even Ron Weasley, who usually regarded her with indifference or slight, though not ill- intentioned suspicion, had seemed to be nicer to her yesterday.

Potter gave her a strange look. “Proceed,” Astoria said impatiently.

“Er, right. If you’re sure—” 

“I’m sure. Just start.”

Potter turned toward Malfoy and flipped through his file. “Sorry to have to call you back in here. I know what the answer is going to be, but the Minister just wants me to double-check.”

Malfoy didn’t answer. His arms were crossed, and he had an incredibly bored expression on his face, though Astoria knew he must be frustrated that he still was called in for interrogations.

“Alright. So, I know you’ve told us everything you know about the Death Eaters, and you led us to some pretty significant arrests. I guess, I’m just asking if you’ve heard anything new in the last couple of days, or anything you thought sounded slightly suspicious, but didn’t think it was worthy enough to bother with? Anything could lead to anything.”

Draco Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I picked up some things at the Death Eaters’ reunion.” Potter looked like he was forcing himself to remain polite. Malfoy reveled a moment in his old enemy’s struggle, before leaning back in his chair. “I don’t keep in contact with Death Eaters. I wouldn’t hear anything of note, and they would know by now not to tell me, even if we did cross paths. Besides, they hate my guts for turning on them. I was attacked abroad three months ago.”

Potter leaned forward with interest and a slightly angry expression worked its way in under the mask of polite professionalism. “And you didn’t think to contact me?”

“I did. I couldn’t tell who it was, so I didn’t have names. Nothing of note happened besides them flinging a few curses at me. I fought them off easily and I sent an anonymous tip about the location.”

“Tip?”

“Yes. I said that Death Eaters were spotted near Istanbul,” Malfoy said, the picture of apathy.

“That was you? We checked it out but didn’t find anything. Of course, all we can do is walk around the streets and look around,” Potter said. Malfoy was watching Astoria write on her pad furiously.

“Yeah. That’s all I have,” Draco said, his eyes shifting toward the door.

“Right. Are you sure? The smallest thing helps.”

“Theodore Nott said something weird to me,” Draco said, offhandedly. Astoria frowned. Theodore hadn’t been a Death Eater, but his father had. It was possible he picked up something.

“What?”

“Said something about wishing he could turn back time.”

“Huh. Really?”

“Yeah. I don’t mean in the nostalgic way either. I can’t explain it, but I got a bad feeling when he said it.”

Potter shook his head. “Don’t worry. I don’t think he meant anything by it. All the time-turners have been destroyed by the Ministry.”

Malfoy shrugged. “The Rowles. Euphemia. She hasn’t left her house in years. My mother mentioned that she had written to my mother, saying something about it being unfair that she had to take on this burden and that it should be my mother’s duty to help her. She never said what the burden was, and my mother said she didn’t know what Euphemia was talking about. She didn’t write back because she didn’t want to be caught up in anything.”

“We’ve searched her house. She seemed like she had practically lost her mind when we spoke to her. There’s nothing,” Potter said, sighing. Astoria copied all this down, sure to keep her handwriting neat.

“Thanks for the help. You can go. And again, sorry to call you back in here,” Potter said, his tone sincere. Malfoy didn’t respond, and he stood, walking out the door.

Before he left, he turned, and said, “You have a really good secretary. Best I’ve seen. You should promote her.” He winked at Astoria and left. Astoria blushed slightly and Potter gave her a startled look.

“Did you want to be promoted?”

“I’ve got seven N.E.W.T.S. I obviously wanted to be promoted. I applied for a different job, but they gave me this one. I had to take it,” Astoria explains, hoping he won’t be to upset.

“Wow. Not that your job isn’t important and worthwhile, because it is, but I can tell you’re a tad bit overqualified.”

“Thanks,” Astoria whispered.

“I’ll see what I can do. It may take a while for them to process the request, but it shouldn’t take any longer than a month and a half,” Potter said. “You’ll have to interview for the position, but I can write you a letter of recommendation or something.”

“Will you,” Astoria said, dryly.

Potter winced. “Better write it in the calendar. In red and orange letters. I pay attention to those the most.” Astoria smiled slyly, and for a moment, she almost forgot about her glaring problem of Terry Boot telling the entire world about her blood curse.

However, that night, as she lay in bed, now an actual bed and not a mattress of the floor, she felt sick to her stomach at the thought, and for some odd reason, she was incredibly upset that Draco Malfoy knew about her blood malediction, though she couldn’t quite figure out why him in particular, when so many others might know.

* * *

She didn’t run into Draco Malfoy for another two weeks. However, when the DMLE was having trouble finding someone to break a curse on an object, as all the Ministry and Gringotts curse-breakers were swamped, Astoria suggested Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter told her, that he wasn’t dealing with Malfoy unless he absolutely had to, but if she wanted to run it to him, and he was willing to do it for free, as there was no way Gerfmen would agree to pay him, Malfoy could try.

Astoria agreed, though she knew that he would most likely turn her down. She hadn’t the faintest idea as to why she had bothered to suggest him. She only knew that for some odd reason, she wanted to see him again.

_Dear Mr. Draco Malfoy,_

_On behalf of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I am inquiring about whether you would be willing to have someone from our department bring a cursed object for you to take a look at. I would be willing to transport it to your place of residence, provided you are in town and have the time. It should be duly noted that this is merely a request and you are neither expected nor required to fulfill it regarding terms of your conditioned release. It should also be duly noted the Department of Magical Law Enforcement will not be paying for your services, should you volunteer them. You will find enclosed the information we have on the aforementioned object. If you need further clarification on the matter of the object, do not owl me directly, as I must admit, I have almost no knowledge of what this report means._

_Kind regards,_

_Astoria Greengrass_

_Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

Later that day, she received a response.

_Greengrass,_

_You may bring the item on the condition that it is you and only you whom I deal with. You are the only person employed by the DMLE that doesn’t irk me to the point of insanity, despite the fact that you do irk me. It should be duly noted that I’m glad I’m not being forced into this. It should also be duly noted that the DMLE are stingy bastards and this is practically charity work; I didn’t think the DMLE would interpret the Free in Freelance Curse-breaker quite this literally. I should also also be dully noted, that it’s a good thing I’m not hurting for money. I’ll be home for the next week. Anytime is fine. Though, I wouldn’t come after ten p.m. I might be with a witch. The report is sufficient._

_Be careful when you bring it._

_Be sure not to touch it._

_Don’t apparate with it._

_Unkind regards,_

_Draco Malfoy._

Astoria had no choice but to reply with a professional letter, as she was an employee. Insufferable, though he was.

_Dear Mr. Draco Malfoy,_

_Thank you for volunteering your services. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is grateful for your assistance. I shall arrive at noon tomorrow with the object. I appreciate your prompt response. If there are any further questions, feel free to contact me. I must request that you check that your residence is connected to the floo network, if apparation will not be possible._

_Kind regards,_

_Astoria Greengrass_

_Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

Astoria sent of the letter, and was surprised again, when she received another letter.

_Greengrass,_

_You sound stiff in your letters. I hope you aren’t this boring when you come tomorrow._

_Slightly kinder regards on the condition you get the stick out your arse,_

_Draco Malfoy_

_Freelance and Recent Work for Free-Lance Curse-Breaker_

_P.S. Floo network is connected. Our fireplace is quite large, so be careful you don’t fall over._

Astoria waited until she arrived at home, before pulling out a piece of parchment.

_Malfoy,_

_Now that I am off the clock, I can write you this letter informing you that you are an absolute arse, and I hope you know how incredibly annoying you are to deal with._

_No Kind Regards from Me,_

_Astoria Greengrass_

_P.S. If you keep referencing the size of your fireplace, people are going to think you’re compensating._

The next morning, Astoria awoke to yet another response to her letter.

_Greengrass,_

_There you are. I was wondering where the witch who insulted the mighty Boy Who Lived was hiding. I assure you; I’m not compensating. However, if there are doubts, I will send a reference letter from some very satisfied witches, though I don’t see quite how that might pertain to the subject of curse breaking. By the way, when you bring the object, make sure it is in a protective case. I value my life and might be slightly inconvenienced if yours happened to be in imminent danger._

_See you at noon,_

_D.M_

Astoria did not bother to reply, as the owl looked near exhausted. She dressed for work, though she took slightly more care in her appearance than usual, and after collecting the object from her office, she flooed to Malfoy Manor.

The fireplace was quite large, as she put her arm out to brace herself against the wall she found it was farther away than she expected. Had Draco not reached out and caught her, as if he had been standing there waiting for her, she would have fallen. She nearly dropped the box that held the cursed object and Draco swore, his other hand catching the box.

“Merlin, Greengrass. Did you read a word I wrote?” He pulls her from the fireplace and takes the box from her, before brushing traces of soot from her clothes. Astoria, a little dizzy from the floo, doesn’t say anything. “Here, take a seat. I’ll have a look.”

He places the box on a table and opens it, letting out a low whistle. “This is a bad one.”

“How do you know? Can you tell just from looking at it?” Astoria asked. Draco beckoned her to come closer and she did so, coming to stand beside him, keeping a considerable distance. Malfoy rolled his eyes and yanked her closer by her arm, before grabbing her hand. Astoria flushed.

“What are you doing?”

He held her hand over the object, and Astoria felt a horrible buzzing aura coming off the object, which she now saw for the first time.

It was a wooden flute, sleek and shiny, and Astoria thought it might have been made of ebony. She could feel it humming and Astoria swallowed and wanted to pull her hand away without seeming too scared.

“That’s not what I was expecting,” Astoria whispered, examining the wood, which looked smooth, and she wanted to run her finger along the edge of the flute, over the etched engravings. She stretched her finger toward it, and Draco snatched her hand back.

“Careful. Sucks you in. Use occlumency,” he directed. Astoria was grateful he pulled her hand away, though, she still couldn’t quite look away from the object. She wasn’t exactly skilled in occlumency.

Draco moved in front of her, blocking her gaze, breaking the slight trance she had been in. Astoria surveyed the room, and realized she was standing inside a large study, that was nearly impeccable in its neatness. There were no stray papers on the desk and all the office supplies were neatly stowed away in a desk drawer. There were no personal affects in the room, which she found odd. Astoria watched him examine the object carefully, his shoulders stretching the fabric of his shirt tight against his back, as he peered at the flute, his arms braced against the desk and an intense look in his eye. He really was very handsome. Astoria shook her head, clearing it, before walking to the bookshelf, examining the titles to distract herself.

“Greengrass. Get me two pairs of dragon-hide gloves from the desk? Also, if you could fetch that Ancient Runes book from the top drawer, I’d appreciate it,” Malfoy commanded in a brisk tone.

“I’m not _your_ secretary,” Astoria pointed out bitterly, before she crossed the room to the desk, handing him the book and the gloves, wondering what he needed two pairs for.

“I’m not ordering you. I’m asking. You could have said no,” he pointed out, putting on a pair of gloves. He passed her the second pair. “No, put these on. You’re going to help.”

“Help? I can’t! I’m not a qualified curse-breaker!”

“Relax. I just thought you’d rather do something than just sit there in your pretty skirt and watch me work. Though, both sounds appealing to me.” Astoria gasped, shocked at his sudden boldness.

“I—”

“Greengrass, would you take a Draught of Peace? I said I liked your skirt. I actually like the pattern,” he said, teasingly. Astoria looked down at the small sprigs of white flowers that decorated the dark green fabric. “The color is also quite nice. Now, would you put on the gloves?” Astoria slipped them on, noticing they were very large for her small hands. Malfoy tapped his wand against them, and they fitted to her hand.

“There. Now, you can pick up the flute.” Astoria nervously picked it up and examined it. “See? Look at that. Step one, observe the object is already done. What do you notice?” he asked, leaning forward.

Astoria looked closely, shivering slightly at the horrible hum it made against her fingers. “It’s vibrating slightly, almost angrily? And, it’s incredibly hot. It almost burns.” Malfoy nodded.

“Did you take Ancient Runes?”

“I got an O.W.L in it, but I chose to focus on Arithmancy for my N.E.W.T.S.,” Astoria murmured, studying the runes carved on the side.

“Do you remember much?” he asked, leaning close to her, his breath tickling her ear. Astoria shivered slightly.

“Some,” she said.

“Mm. Well, what can you figure out?”

She studied the runes closely, though she was careful to keep the flute at a distance from her face.

“These symbols translate to numbers, don’t they? So, it’s a combination of Arithmancy and Runology. I’m guessing the runes are a numerical code.”

Malfoy smirked. “Look at that, Greengrass. Don’t make my job sound so easy to figure out. Can you translate the runes?”

“I think so. That right there is a Quintaped and a Fwooper, so that’s five-four,” Astoria began. Draco took a piece of parchment and wrote down both numbers. Astoria expected him to go on ahead and translate, as he could no doubt move faster, but she noticed that he, while looking at the flute, always waited until she translated to write it down. “Demiguise, Unicorn, Runespoor. That’s going to be zero-one-three…”

Once they had finished, Malfoy held out his hand for the flute and pulled out a small magnifying-glass, examining the top of the flute, where an inscription was written around the lip plate. “Do you remember the Furthark Alphabet?” Malfoy asked.

“Yes. Vaguely,” Astoria said, as Malfoy passed the flute and the magnifying glass to her.

“Give it a shot,” he said, smirking at her.

“Why? Surely you can do it.”

“Mm. I’ve already figured it out. But, I want to see if _you_ can do it.” Astoria flipped open the book for reference and began to read the inscription.

“It’s saying it will yield when ice. What?” Astoria whispered, shaking her head. “That can’t be right.”

“No, that’s right. Now, think about the numerical code,” Malfoy said, sliding her the piece of parchment. 

Astoria glanced at it. “Well, freezing temperature is zero degrees. Is it possible that the code has something to do with the magical properties of zero?”

“Look at that. And they have you taking minutes,” Malfoy said, sounding smug and pleased; Astoria realized just how close he stood behind her, and when she turned her head, the tip of her nose almost brushed his. Astoria glared at him and handed him the flute, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder, taking a small step back.

“That code looks incredibly complicated. Far harder than anything we studied in N.E.W.T levels,” Astoria admitted.

“It is. You have to be trained for this. I learned from goblins in Australia. But, I could teach you. It would take months, though. For now, just watch me.” For now? Astoria wondered what he meant by that.

Malfoy leaned forward and began doing complicated calculations on the parchment, using only a few formulas and computations she recognized. Finally, he pulled out his wand, and murmuring an incantation Astoria hadn’t heard before, he shot a long tendril of light from the tip of his wand that wrapped around the flute. The flute shook and rattled, and Astoria heard a horrible high note come from the instrument, despite the fact no one was playing it. Draco suddenly looked alarmed, as the flute started shaking rapidly, now jumping slightly on the desk, steam coming out the mouth of the instrument. He grabbed her and shoved her to the ground, pushing her under the desk, ducking as a shockwave of angry red light shot from the flute, the energy nearly catching them. Astoria squeezed her eyes shut, and she gripped his arm which was wrapped protectively around her. He had nearly landed on top of her and now he hovered over her, seemingly in no hurry to move.

After a long moment, Malfoy stood up and grinned at her. “Alright?”

Astoria nodded and took his hand when he offered to help her up. There, was the flute, lying on the desk, looking just the same as it had before. Malfoy pulled off her gloves and his, picking up the flute, seemingly testing it, before dropping it in her hands.

“There you are. Curse broke. Free of charge.” He closed her fingers around the wooden flute, and Astoria marveled at how cool, and harmless it felt.

“They should pay you,” she whispers, eyes scanning over the object.

“I’ll try to recuperate from the heavy financial loss,” he quips, and Astoria realized his hands were still hovering over hers. She looked at him, and bright, silver eyes stare back at her; Astoria found it hard to breathe. He let go of her and Astoria placed the flute back in the box.

“Well, thank you, Mr. Malfoy. I appreciate your help,” Astoria says, her voice returning to it’s clipped, professional tone. Malfoy rolled his eyes, smirking at her, as if he knew it was all a ploy to reign in her thoughts, and assume some sort of control over the situation.

“Yeah, well. I thought I’d help you out. Was it urgent?” Astoria froze and swallowed. No. In fact, they could have gotten another curse-breaker within the next couple days. She just wanted to see him.

“Incredibly.”

“What’s so urgent about a flute?” he asked, cocking his head.

“I don’t know. I’m just the—”

“Secretary. Well, the report you enclosed in the file said it was of “moderate importance.’ So, I was curious as to why it was so imperative that I get it done,” he said smirking, as if to say, _busted._

“I have to go,” Astoria said, suddenly, nearly tripping on her way to the fireplace.

“Oh, you do? Is it _urgent?_ ” he drawls, watching her as she realizes there isn’t any floo powder. “I’m afraid you’ll have to apparate. I’ll walk you to the edge of the wards,” Malfoy offered, his smirk widening as he took in her slightly panicked expression.

“No, no. I can get there myself. Where do the wards end?” Astoria asked.

“Edge of the estate,” Malfoy said, clearly fighting to hold back a laugh. “I’ll walk you there, Greengrass.” He held open the door to the study, shaking his head as she passes him, and he shut the door behind him.

They walked in silence, with her wondering how he could still be so smug and entitled after all this time, and why that didn’t bother her nearly as much as it should have. She tried to avoid looking at him, but he made no effort to hide the fact that he was unabashedly watching her, and she squirmed, nervous from his scrutiny. 

They stepped out of the entrance to the Manor, after nearly five minutes, and she felt the need to fill the silence. “You live there all alone?” she asked, gazing back at the tall, imposing building.

“Yes,” he said, not bothering to look back at the Manor with her.

“Do you like it?” Astoria asked, hating how pathetic and childish the question sounds.

“No. But, my mother wants someone to stay there, and France is better for her mental state than the manor. I hardly spend any time there. Like I mentioned, I spend most of my time abroad.” Astoria tried to ignore her growing disappointment at the realization he would likely be leaving soon.

“I see. So, when do you leave again?”

He didn’t answer right away, but, he said, “I have some business in London that doesn’t involve my international work. I’ll be here for the duration of this month and the next.”

“What business?” Astoria asked, curiously. Malfoy sighed and shook his head.

“I’m working on something for Blaise Zabini, a friend of mine. He’s got some problems with a hoard of old family heirlooms, and I told him I would help him out.”

“For free?” asked Astoria, teasing. He smirked.

“No. It appears I only extend that service to you.” He shot her a look, before stopping. “You can apparate from here,” he said. 

“Alright. Thanks again. I really do appreciate it,” Astoria said, her hand twisting with the bracelet on her wrist, a thin gold band, a present from Daphne. Her fingers found the clasp, and she let the bracelet fall to the ground. She saw him glance at it, and she pretended not to notice what had happened. He, to her surprise, said nothing, though she thought she saw his eyes flash with a devious sort of amusement. “I must be going. I’m terribly late for an appointment,” she lied. “Goodbye,” she called over her shoulder, taking another step and disapparating.

She tried to steady her breathing as she arrived just outside The Ministry of Magic. Later, as she sat in her office, typing up a report, and a schedule for the day, though she knew that she would end up having to remind Potter five minutes before each appointment.

 _I’m being ridiculous_ , she thought. _There is no reason why he can’t simply send the bracelet to me by owl. If he really wants to see me, he could bring it by, but it isn’t as if there is a reason to go to all that trouble._ She can’t for the life of her figure out why she did such a thing. Or, perhaps she knows exactly why she did it, and that might be even worse.

She was interrupted from her train of thought, by Ron Weasley bursting through the door, looking flustered and nervous. “Is he in?” he asked, craning his neck, as if he could see through the door.

“Yes. But, he’s with Granger. You can just pop in—”

Weasley looked panicked. “No! I need to talk to him _about_ Hermione. She can’t be there!”

“Okay. Well, come back later, then,” Astoria said, resuming her work. Weasley plopped into the chair that sat against the walk and Astoria bit back a sigh of annoyance.

“I’ll just wait and then pretend I have a meeting with him.”

“About a joke shop?” Astoria asked, raising a single eyebrow. Weasley hadn’t passed his Auror training, though Astoria suspected it was more that he had lost his taste for fighting, and he felt a sense of duty to help his brother, rather than inadequacy. 

Ron bristled. “Yes! A joke shop. I’ll say there’s been a robbery.”

“Granger will want to hear about that,” Astoria said slyly, shaking her head. Weasley rolled his eyes and Astoria fought the urge to laugh.

Just then, Granger left Harry’s office, and saw Weasley. “Ron! What are you doing here?”

“Here to see Harry. The joke shops been robbed.” Granger’s mouth dropped open.

“That’s horrible! How did that happen? George’s wards are nigh impenetrable, not to mention he various traps he’s set up!”

Weasley cleared his throat nervously. “Oh! Well, um. That’s why I’m contacting Harry. To figure that out.”

Granger shook her head and said, “I’ll have a look later. I just can’t believe this!” She gave Weasley an affectionate pat on the arm and seemed like she might be about to hug him. Astoria shot from her seat and they both gave her a startled look.

“Excuse me,” she said, darting past them, making her way for the door, just catching Weasley hastily assuring Granger she needn’t come by. She hid in the washroom for nearly thirty minutes, praying it would be safe enough to return to her office by then. When she returned, she found no Potter, Granger, or Weasley, and heaved a sigh of relief.

When she opened the door to her flat, she noticed a letter had been left on the windowsill, and a very impatient looking owl was resting next to it, glaring at her with its accusing yellow eyes. She knew it was Malfoy’s owl, and she reached for the letter, tearing it open.

_Greengrass,_

_I’ve returned your bracelet. I must say, I’m quite honored by this attempt to weasel your way to seeing me again, but I’d prefer if I were to simply meet you with no other excuse than to see you. If you’re free I will arrive at your address tomorrow at 7 p.m._

_D.M_

Astoria flushed as she pulled her bracelet from the envelope and reattached it to her wrist, before scribbling a reply.

_Malfoy,_

_I don’t know what you mean. I thank you for returning my bracelet. I had no idea I had even lost it. That time will be appropriate. We should most definitely not meet at my address. I’ll meet you at the Manor._

_Astoria._

Next evening, as Astoria was just about to leave her flat, the doorbell rang. She furrowed her brow, wondering who it could be, and when she opened the door, she gasped.

“Malfoy. I thought I said—”

“I told you I didn’t like my manor. I don’t want to meet there,” he said, stepping past her and surveying her flat. Astoria’s cheeks colored as she recalled his vast manor, that no doubt made her dingy apartment look like a hermit’s hovel.

“How did you even know where I lived?”

“Daphne. Although, I was surprised you didn’t live at your father’s.”

“I’ve been disowned,” Astoria replied hastily, as Malfoy sat on the only piece of furniture she had in the room for sitting. If you didn’t count the two dining chairs. “So, I had to pay for this myself,” Astoria continued.

“Potter doesn’t pay you?”

“He isn’t in charge of it. It’s really Gerfmen who is so cheap,” Astoria defended.

“Relax, Greengrass. It’s a nice place.”

“You’re lying.”

“So, I’m lying. I like it better than the Manor, if that helps,” Draco said, eyes alight with mischief. Astoria didn’t know how that could be true.

“I have a bed,” Astoria blurted, heading to the small mirror under the pretense of fixing her hair, wondering why she was suddenly so incredibly nervous.

“Thank you for telling me. I’ll keep that in mind,” he laughed. Astoria closed her eyes in embarrassment.

“No. I mean, I used to just have a mattress on the floor. So, I’ve actually made improvements.” Astoria smoothed her hands over her black velvet skirt, and made her way back to the sitting room, if one could even qualify it as that, to face the music.

“That skirt is an improvement. And here I was, thinking the last one was so pretty.”

She gave him an attempt at a severe look, trying to calm the fluttering in her chest at his words. “You’re bold,” she said.

“I happen to like velvet, Greengrass. What else could I be referring to?” He smirked, looking her up and down, and Astoria was sure he was looking at more than just the material.

“Hm,” she said, realizing she didn’t quite know what to do with herself.

“Why were you so desperate to see me?” he asked.

“I wasn’t desperate,” Astoria said.

“No? So, your bracelet fell all on its own?”

Astoria turned bright red and said, “Yes. Obviously.”

“I would have wanted to see you again without the bracelet,” he said, the teasing in his tone momentarily disappearing. Astoria couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face, so she turned her back to him and tried to look busy in the kitchen.

“What did you have planned?” Astoria asked.

“Nothing. I just wanted to talk to you.”

Astoria sighed in relief and used her wand to move one of the old wooden dining chairs across from him, before sitting in it.

“You live here alone?” Malfoy asked.

“Yes. It’s not really big enough for more than one person,” Astoria said.

“It isn’t a good neighborhood. It looks rather dangerous.”

“Yes. A former Death Eater could wander in,” Astoria joked. Malfoy grinned, though she thought it looked a little forced.

“I’m serious. You could afford a nicer place if you split it with someone. Get a roommate.” Astoria didn’t say anything. “A friend could live with you.”

“I don’t really have close friends. I’m a bit of a loner,” Astoria admitted.

“I am too,” he said, quietly.

“Malfoy, when you said you worked in other countries. Is it easy? For you to find clients?”

“Yes. I told you, I’m very good. Why? Thinking of quitting your thrilling career at the DMLE?” Malfoy smirked at her.

“No. I’m about to get promoted.”

“You said that weeks ago.”

“I mean it. I have an interview in a month. And, I’m pretty sure I’m going to get the job.”

“I don’t know. I think you could be a good curse-breaker,” he teased. Astoria laughed.

“Maybe.”

He was silent again, and he watched her, his silver eyes dancing across her form, seemingly drinking in every detail. 

“What are you thinking about?” Astoria asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m thinking about how I lied,” he said, his face the picture of seriousness.

“Lied?”

“I did have something planned.”

Astoria tenses and she stands, suddenly too nervous to sit. Where would they go? What would she have to do? Was she dressed appropriately for the activity? Why hadn’t they left yet? “What did you have in mind?” Astoria asked, as Malfoy stood, taking a step towards her. He came closer and then closer still, and Astoria couldn’t breathe, her heart beating impossibly fast.

He leaned down, claiming her lips hungrily and Astoria responded with equal fervor, her hands tangling in his silky hair as she tried to match his pace. His lips slowed, moving almost languidly against her own, though that did little to help her catch her breath. He pulled back, leaving her lips tingling, and she laughed breathlessly. His hands still cupped her cheeks, an one began to slide down the side of her neck and she noticed his knuckles were bruised.

“Your hand,” she said, eyes widening.

“Hm?” He asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

“What happened?”

He looked down and swore. “That happened last night.”

“I didn’t ask when, I asked what,” Astoria said, pointedly.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, shaking his head. Astoria frowned, and she wanted to tell him that it looked as though he punched a wall, but he was bringing her lips to his again, and she found that it was hard to focus on anything else after that.

* * *

The next morning, Astoria sat behind her desk, trying not to think about last night, and finding it impossible. He had kissed her, and then kept kissing her, occasionally stopping to tease her or to make conversation, but it was rather pointless, as he couldn’t seem to stop long enough for an actual conversation.

Then, he left. He didn’t say if or when he’d see her again. And now, she was attempting to coordinate a meeting with the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, who were pretending to be busier than they likely were.

Potter came in, looking a little angry, with Weasley tailing him, looking pleased.

“Astoria,” he said, his tone blunt. Astoria jumped. They knew. She’d be fired.

“Yes?”

“I need you to send a notice of parole violation,” he said, and Weasley was grinning almost smugly.

“Of course. To whom?”

“Malfoy. I want it to be tomorrow, 2 p.m.”

“Lucius?” she asked, hopefully.

“No. Draco,” he said, passing her desk.

“For what?” she asked. Weasley shook his head.

“Don’t know. Some bloke is claiming he was attacked,” Weasley said.

“And what are you doing here?” Astoria asked, narrowing her eyes at him. “You aren’t official personnel,” she hissed, wrinkling her nose at him.

“Astoria. Write it up,” Potter said, in an uncharacteristically short tone, before opening the door to his office and stepping inside.

“Slytherins. I told you, didn’t I? Look at her, doesn’t want to write up the notice. I—”

“Shut up, Ron,” Potter said, cutting him off, before closing the door behind himself and Weasley.

Astoria dipped her quill in the ink and began to write the notice.

_Dear Mr. Draco Malfoy,_

_You are hereby summoned to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for an official meeting regarding your possible parole violation. You are to report to Mr. Harry Potter’s office at 2 p.m. tomorrow afternoon. Thank you for your cooperation._

_Sincerely,_

_Astoria Greengrass_

_Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

She sent the letter and that was the last bit of productive work she was able to complete. She wondered what on earth he had done. Assault? Whatever for? She began to get a sick feeling in her stomach.

She was just leaving her office, when the reply came.

_Greengrass,_

_I’ll be there. Don’t get your knickers in a twist. It isn’t serious.”_

_D.M_

Astoria hastily threw the reply away, lest someone see it and get the wrong impression. Or the right one.

The next afternoon, Astoria tapped her quill anxiously against the desk, checking her watch. At one-thirty in the afternoon, he walked in, the light coming in through the window making his hair look especially blonde, and Astoria swallowed nervously. Malfoy had always been tall and lean, and perhaps it was because she was sitting down, but he seemed to tower over her before he sat in the chair opposite her desk and smirked nonchalantly.

“Greengrass.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing serious,” he said. “I’m not going to Azkaban, if that’s what you’re worried about.” The smirk made the angles of his face sharper.

“What a relief,” Astoria hissed. “I heard it was assault.”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“Assault is not objective! It either happened or it didn’t!”

Potter walked in and gave Malfoy a tired look, before nodding his head at his office. “You’re early. Let’s get started.” Astoria sat at her desk, staring at the surface in disbelief, unable to move.

“Astoria. Come on,” Potter said, and Astoria jumped up, knocking over an ink bottle that smashed when it hit the floor, black liquid staining the floor. “What’s with you”? he asked, sounding slightly annoyed.

“Give her a break, Potter,” Malfoy snapped, walking into Potter’s office, as Astoria used her wand to clear away the spilled ink, grabbing a quill and a pad of parchment.

Potter sighed and gave her a guilty look, which Astoria ignored, as she passed him into his office. She sat in the corner, her back pressed against the chair and her shaking hand gripping the quill.

Potter was the last to enter, and he shut the door behind them. “I want to get this over with. I hope you know, I’m supposed to investigate a possible witness to a recent Death Eater sighting, our most promising lead yet, and I had to push it back.”

Astoria didn’t write that down. That couldn’t have been important. That sighting was rubbish and Potter probably knew it.

“Sorry to inconvenience,” Malfoy said, not sounding sorry at all.

“Right. Terry Boot says you assaulted him.”

“Correct,” Malfoy said, as Astoria gasped. Potter gave her a quizzical look.

“Ron said you used to—” Potter started, turning to Astoria. Astoria fought the urge to get up and run.

“That isn’t relevant,” Astoria said, cutting him off.

“Right. Well, if you think this would be upsetting for you, to hear about someone you cared about getting assaulted, then I understand if you wanted to leave,” Potter said.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “I punched him once. The way you are talking, you’d think I’d used an unforgiveable.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Potter said, giving Malfoy a look. Malfoy stiffened and glanced at her before looking down at his feet.

Astoria shook her head. “Proceed,” she said nervously. What on earth had Malfoy gone a done a thing like that for?

“Terry said he was having a drink with friends in a bar and you assaulted him.”

“Correct.”

“Okay, Malfoy. Well, you can’t go around—”

“Well, I did.”

“Why would you? I’m trying to help you out, you know. But you don’t make it easy—”

“I don’t require you’re help!”

“So, you just punched him? Because you felt like it?”

Astoria’s quill was moving rapidly, and her heart was beating even faster.

“Pretty much,” Malfoy said, dryly. He must be mad, Astoria thought.

“Boot said it was because you wanted revenge for turning you into a slug in June of ’96,” Potter continued, after taking a deep breath.

“Yes. That’s it,” Malfoy said sarcastically. “I’ve been biding my time, all these years. Boot will rue the day he ever cursed me,” Malfoy said, rolling his eyes.

Potter groaned and buried his head in his hands. Astoria glared at Malfoy. Was he trying to get thrown in Azkaban?

Suddenly, Blaise Zabini burst through the door, and Astoria jumped. Gerfmen’s secretary, who was never as busy as Astoria was, but definitely had to work for a far more unpleasant person, came running in after him.

“Sir! You can’t just—”

“He’s innocent,” Zabini said, panting, throwing himself into a chair. “Boot deserved it.”

Potter looked annoyed and slightly surprised. Astoria’s hand was cramping as she noted Blaise’s sudden appearance. “What are you doing here?”

“Boot was at work, talking about how he was sending Malfoy to Azkaban, and I had to get here!”

“No one is going to Azkaban,” Potter said, looking tired, waving away Gerfman's secretary, who gave Potter a simpering smile, one Astoria fought not to gag at. 

“Leave, Zabini,” Malfoy said, warningly.

“I was there! I can tell you what happened,” Zabini said, plopping down in the seat next to Malfoy, ignoring his friends harsh glare.

“Fine. Tell me,” Potter said, glancing at the clock. He could have shirked this case onto someone else, but Astoria noticed Potter was too honorable to do that. He was technically a lower-level Auror, and he would deal with mundane cases like he was supposed to.

“Malfoy and I were getting drinks after he finished doing some private work for me. Boot was there, with his buddies, and they were teasing him about—”

“Shut the fuck up, Zabini,” Malfoy said, voice low.

Astoria paraphrased by writing:

_Mr. D. Malfoy asked Mr. B. Zabini to refrain from speaking._

“They were making fun of Malfoy?”

“No. Terry’s friends were making fun of Terry,” Zabini rushed out.

“I don’t see what this has to do—” Potter began.

“It doesn’t. Zabini was just leaving.”

“Mate, I’m trying to help you,” Zabini pleaded.

“If you have something to say, say it. I don’t have time to sit around all day. I was planning on this taking fifteen minutes,” Potter said, almost pleadingly.

“Right, so Terry’s mates were talking about Greengr—”

“Zabini. Shut your damn, fucking mouth,” Malfoy growled.

Astoria’s quill froze. Potter looked at her, eyes widening slightly. 

“Look. The semantics don’t matter. It wasn’t in self-defense. I hit Boot. There, confessed. Now, fine me. Throw me in Azkaban, whatever. But, we are done with this conversation,” Malfoy said, standing, hauling Blaise up by the collar of his shirt and throwing him toward the door.

Astoria had stopped writing and when she looked at her notes, she couldn’t even tell what she had written.

Potter sighed, heavily. “Look, Boot is saying he was sitting there, minding his own business and you broke his nose. That doesn’t look good, Malfoy. You attacked a veteran of the Battle of Hogwarts and a former D.A member. It looks bad,” Potter said.

“Add it to my list,” Malfoy said. “Put it in the file.”

“Malfoy, they might not put you in Azkaban, but they could put you under extended house-arrest while they investigate your motives,” Potter explained, fighting to keep his voice even and his temper under control.

Astoria swallowed. Was this really that important? “I don’t understand what the big deal is. It’s a bar-fight. Does it really matter why it happened? If it’s not self-defense, then it’s assault,” Astoria said, quietly.

Potter looked at her, surprised. “Boot is claiming Malfoy attacked him with the purpose being to incite violence in the name of Voldemort—” Malfoy scoffed, attempting to interrupt him, but he continued, voice rising. “Look, Malfoy. Boot didn’t press charges, but he did file a report! If you don’t provide any evidence that contradicts his statement, I can’t help you. So, if it’s for some other reason, which I suspect it is, then fess up! Because otherwise, you’ll have a whole team of Aurors digging through your files, your life, your home, and they may go after your parents too!” Potter shouted, clearly annoyed.

Malfoy sighed and said nothing. Zabini sat back down and nudged him. “Come on.”

“Fine. Fucking fine,” Malfoy hissed. “Boot’s mates were teasing him about a failed romance of his. Nothing serious. Boot in an effort to defend himself to the idiots he calls friends, started to say some rather nasty things about this ex-romantic partner,” Malfoy said, darkly. Astoria flushed scarlet, her notetaking efforts long abandoned. Malfoy was refusing to look at her.

“So?” Potter asked.

“I know this woman. I thought the statements were private and uncalled for. It isn’t the first time he had disrespected her in that way, and I put an end to it,” Malfoy said. Potter nodded and stood, throwing a sideways glance toward Astoria, who was shifting nervously.

“I’ll tell Gerfmen Boot’s talking rubbish. The claims will be dismissed. You will have to pay a fine of fifty galleons for violating parole. Don’t do it again, or you may have to go to Azkaban for a few months,” Potter said, tone professional. “I don’t want to waste time and resources investigating false claims when we still have Death Eaters to catch,” he added.

“Show yourselves out when you’re ready. I have to speak with Gerfmen,” Potter said, walking out the door. “Astoria, come with me.” Astoria stood on shaking legs and followed him out the door and into her office, shutting the door behind her.

She opened her mouth, but he held up his hand. “Don’t care. Don’t want to know. In an attempt to save yourself from embarrassment, I suggest we keep this meeting off the record,” Potter said, glancing at her messy notes. Astoria gave him a single nod. He left, the door closing behind him sharply and Astoria flinched. Zabini rushed out of Potter’s office and into hers, before passing her desk and exiting the small wing. Astoria sat behind her desk and buried her head in her hands, trying not to cry. How long would Boot plan on telling everyone he knew about her blood malediction? Among other things. It was cruel, really. And unnecessary. And Malfoy had been willing to get in legal trouble to keep her curse and the fact that they were in some capacity, seeing each other, from her boss.

The door opened quietly behind her, and Astoria didn’t look up.

“Greengrass,” Malfoy called softly. Astoria didn’t turn her head.

“What?” she asked, tone miserable.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would cause all this trouble. I wasn’t thinking. I just—”

“It’s alright. I’m not upset at you,” Astoria said, tearing up. “I just wish Boot would refrain from telling my personal business. Half of Wizarding Britain knows by now.”

“The men who frequent the Ten Toadstools, do,” Malfoy admitted. “But, that’s hardly half of Wizarding Britain.”

“You should go,” Astoria said, suddenly, the realization that Malfoy knew possibly every detail Boot had disclosed, hitting her hard. He already had known, but she was reminded of that and now she wanted to lock herself away in her tiny flat and never come out. It just wasn’t worth the trouble.

He didn’t leave. It only took him two strides to get across her matchbox of an office, before he braced himself against her chair, his hands gripping the armrests. “I will in a minute. Are you going to get in trouble?”

“No. Potter’s not even reporting the meeting. He’s basically going to make Terry’s false claims disappear,” Astoria murmured.

“How annoying,” Malfoy muttered. “It’s getting harder to hate him.”

“For you, maybe. I had to reorganize his filing cabinet this morning. He completely missed a report on werewolves,” Astoria said, only half-joking. Malfoy’s lips pressed against the back of her neck and she shivered, lifting her head and turning around to face him.

“Malfoy—”

“Are you going to keep calling me by my last name?”

“You call me Greengrass,” Astoria pointed out.

“True. Let’s stop,” he said, smirking. He leaned into kiss her on the mouth, and Astoria allowed herself to savor the kiss a few moments, before pulling away.

“I’m at work.”

“I’ll see you tonight?” he asked.

Astoria nodded, smiling. “Okay.”

He had said in her office only weeks ago that he preferred casual sex. Astoria was trying to remind herself of that fact, but it was becoming hard to remember that when he was standing so close. His hand dropped to the hem of her skirt, an orange corduroy that looked cuter than it sounded.

“Not my favorite,” he said, fingers brushing the material.

“I like it,” Astoria defended.

“Oh, I didn’t say I didn’t like it. Just not my favorite,” he murmured, dropping his hand, smirking at her. He moved back from her and left her sitting there, as he headed for the door.

“Goodbye, Astoria,” he teased, before leaving, not giving her a chance to respond.

* * *

Their relationship began. After work, nearly every evening, Astoria would meet him somewhere, usually her flat, and he would take her off somewhere, to dinner, to a play, to a symphony, to an art gallery, and even once to a beach, always in another country. They didn’t dare go out in Britain. Mostly, because Astoria was terrified someone would bring up her curse, and she figured he didn’t want to because he wasn’t exactly the most well-liked person, despite how fond she was of him.

Astoria thought he was incredibly handsome, intelligent, and charming. He most certainly wasn’t nice. He was still judgmental, and had a mean-streak, though it was rarely, if ever, directed at her.

Astoria couldn’t be sure if she was the only one he was seeing, and she didn’t want to ask. He hadn’t tried to sleep with her, and she couldn’t decide if that boded well, as a sign he wasn’t with her for sex, or if it meant he didn’t find her all that attractive. He had made it very clear when she first met him, that he didn’t do serious relationships. He only did _various different casual relationships_ , she thought, wrinkling her nose at his choice of words. Of course, he did punch Boot for her, though she didn’t know if that was simply something any decent person would do.

Her interview was coming up, and though she hated working for the DMLE, she was at least looking forward to leaving the position of secretary behind, all though she knew there was nothing wrong with being a secretary. But, she didn’t bust her arse at Hogwarts to take notes for Harry Potter.

Potter and she had returned to their relationship of polite, professional, cordiality, and although she was sure he had mentioned the incident to Granger, who had casually mentioned that anything she heard in working with the DMLE had to remain confidential, even from friends. Astoria had fought not to roll her eyes at the very blatant, “Don’t tell the former Death Eater what the Ministry is up to.”

Of course, Draco was very into keeping them out of the public eye while in Britain, so she knew that no one, not even her sister, knew of their relationship. What Potter and Granger might suspect, they kept to themselves, and they had no way of confirming it. Astoria had often wondered if he was embarrassed to be seen with her because of her curse, but she didn’t want to ask, or bring up the curse, afraid that if she reminded him of it, he’d make like Terry Boot and run faster than a Firebolt flew.

One afternoon, the only afternoon Astoria had off that week, they lay on a blanket in Paris’s Luxembourg Garden, and Astoria enjoyed feeling the sun on her face.

“Astoria,” Draco murmured.

“What?” she asked.

“How much champagne have you had?” he asked.

“Not much. Why? Do I look—”

“No. I just don’t want to kiss you if you’re drunk,” he said, leaning across what little space remained between them, rolling on top of her, pressing himself into her far more intimately then he ever had before.

“Draco,” she said, eyes widening. He kissed her, cutting off whatever else she might have said next, and she relaxed into his touch, before becoming vaguely aware of where they were. Technically, this was a public place though they were nearly secluded, and when she thought about how other people might see, she blushed and nudged him lightly in the chest. He pulled back, groaning.

“If you’re going to complain about the muggles, they can’t see us. I cast a few wards,” he said, lightly. Astoria frowned. She didn’t enjoy being so predictable.

“I wasn’t going to,” she lied. “But, I can still see them, so I’d rather not.” Draco smirked and rolled off of her, laughing. Astoria immediately missed the contact, and said, “You may resume later though.”

“I plan on it,” he said.

That night, when they were back at her insalubrious flat, he had begun kissing her fiercely the moment they stepped through the door, though he was sure to shut the door securely behind him before he did so, and lower the curtains with his wand.

He had her pressed against a wall, and his fingers dug into her waist as he began to trail his lips to her neck, softly at first, but now he was sucking hard on a place near her collarbone, leaving Astoria to grip his hair, her other hand braced against the wall behind her, as her breathless sighs filled the small space. 

He pulled back, seemingly with great effort, and said, “You have tomorrow off?”

“Yes, but I’m running errands for my sister. She’s quite pregnant, and I’m worried she’ll strain herself,” Astoria said, as Draco brushed her dark hair from her face, sweeping it to one side to get a better view of the work he’d done on her neck.

“Regrettable, though admirable,” he teased, eyes widening at the little hiss Astoria made as his fingers brushed the marks on her neck. “Hurts?” he asked. She shook her head.

“No,” she whispered, cheeks coloring.

“Hm. I’ll see you after work the day after tomorrow?” he asked.

“Yes,” Astoria said.

Draco headed for the door, before looking around the small flat. “I’ll buy you a nicer place.”

“Don’t you dare. I like it here,” she defended.

She hated it here.

“If you insist,” he teased, before shutting the door behind him. Did someone offer to buy flats for people they were in casual relationships with? Yes, if you were as rich as Draco Malfoy, she supposed, ignoring the clench in her heart as she stepped inside the incredibly tiny shower.

She was leaving the apothecary the next day, glancing nervously around Diagon Alley. She was just starting down the cobblestone street when she saw two witches look at her, one with an extremely flamboyant orange hat, and the other with charmed blue hair, as they began to whisper.

Astoria nervously wrung her hands and as she walked past them, she caught a whisper. “I heard she’s cursed. Yes, cursed. That’s what Johnny heard from Terry.”

“I know. I can’t believe the Greengrass family kept it hidden for all these years. It’s terribly sad, when you think about it.”

Astoria’s stomach clenched and she darted past the pair, and felt their eyes follow her down the street. She passed an alleyway, and felt someone grab her wrist, pulling her into the shadowy backstreet. She was about to scream, but her scream turned into a laugh when she saw it was Draco, pulling her to the very back of the well-hidden nook.

He pressed her against the bricks and smirked down at her. “I saw you at the apothecary.”

“Stalking me?” Astoria asked, teasingly.

“No. I was picking up a Runology book from Flourish and Blots. Your being here was an added bonus,” he said, leaning down, kissing her slowly. Astoria wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and shuddering as his fingertips trailed down her spine, to the waistband of her blue-wool skirt, tugging her closer.

“You wear skirts even when you aren’t at work?” he asked, fingers tightening around her waist as he kissed just behind her ear, as she shivered from his breath tickling her ear.

“No. I mean, yes. It depends. I did today,” she rambled, finding hard to think.

“I see. Well, I’m glad that you don’t just pull them out for Potter. It’s good to know your egalitarian when it comes to who gets to see your skirts. I mean, the people of Diagon Alley are truly blessed,” he teased.

“I wear them to work!” Her pencil skirts were plenty appropriate above the knee, or slightly higher, Astoria thought, and nothing to make such a fuss about.

“Are you working now?”

“You’re a piece of work,” Astoria grumbled, pointedly.

“Well, I suggest you get to it then. I’ll even let you take notes. Tell me, what do you think of this?” He slotted his lips against hers and his tongue ran across her own.

It was several minutes before he pulled back, squeezing her hips playfully. “Well? I suggest you give me your report. On the double.”

“I don’t think that was enough to go on,” Astoria said, trying to joke, but her shaking voice gave her away.

“I see. Well, I suppose I’ll have to keep going,” he rasped, yanking her lips onto his again, one hand gripping her thigh, hoisting it up to rest against his hip.

Just then, there was a bright flash, and the sound of a camera clicking. Before Astoria had time to register anything else, there was a pull in her gut, and her world swirled into nothingness around her, before her flat materialized in front of her. Draco must have apparated them here.

“Unlock the door,” he ordered, looking around hurriedly. Astoria did so, trying to ignore the hurt she was feeling from his angry, panicked expression.

Draco grabbed the key from her shaking hand, and shoved it in the lock, turning it, and hastily pulling her inside. “Shit,” he said, running his hand over his face.

“What?” Astoria asked, her tone sounding defensive. He didn’t respond. He sank into the threadbare armchair and closed his eyes, massaging his temples. Astoria was suddenly, angry. This was about her blood curse. It had to be. “I’m sorry that your embarrassed to be with the me, but you don’t have to pitch a fit about it,” she spat. “What? You don’t want anyone to know you’re with someone who—” He held up a hand, stopping her. She was about to shout at him for having the audacity, but she saw the expression on his face, one of guilt and deep sorrow, causing her to stop in her tracks.

He gave her a pained look. “I’ve probably just ruined your fucking life. That’s what.”

“Sorry?” she asked, confused.

“Astoria, what do you think happens when the Prophet, Witch Weekly, or whoever the fuck that was, publishes that picture?”

Astoria blushed. So, pressed against the wall, snogging a wizard, was probably not the most proper photo one could have taken of themselves, but, his hands hadn’t been anywhere untoward, and they had only been kissing. Albeit very heavily. Not ideal, but, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

“I don’t think my life is ruined because someone photographed me snogging. I’ll admit, it doesn’t look great to be snogging in a semi-public place, but I hardly think it’s life ruining,” she said, stepping forward and placing her hand on his shoulder.

Draco scoffed, shrugging her off. “How can you be so naïve? Are you seriously this stupid?” he asked, tone biting. Astoria withdrew, stung.

“Excuse me?”

“Astoria, it’s not that you’re snogging. It’s that you’re snogging me. A Death Eater.”

“Former Death Eater. Important distinction.”

“What difference does that make?”

“All the difference,” Astoria stated, firmly.

“You know how much people hate me. What do you think they’ll say about you?” Draco stood and began to pace her small flat, before sinking onto her bed, burying his face in his hands. “Fuck,” he whispered.

“Draco. I don’t care. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s not exactly as if I have a lot to lose. I don’t really care what they say about me.” That was a lie. She did care what they said, though not enough to leave him.

“Astoria, you say that now. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this to you. They’d fire you.”

“I hate that job, anyway.”

“No, you don’t. Not as much as you say you do,” Draco said, looking at her. Astoria crossed the room and sat beside him, and this time, when she placed her hand on his left arm, he flinched, before grabbing her hand and moving it to his leg. She sighed.

“Draco. I like the independence. I like upsetting my parents. I like, in a way, that it’s all mine, something I’m doing on my own, without help. But, I think I’m undervalued, underpaid, and I think they’re probably lying about that promotion.”

Draco laughed, though it quickly died when Astoria started to inch up his sleeve. “What are you doing?”

“I want to see the mark,” she whispered.

“Why?”

“Because you so desperately want to hide it from me. And I don’t want you to think you have to hide from me,” Astoria said, inching up the sleeve. “But, you can tell me to stop.”

Draco didn’t, though he closed his eyes, looking a little sick.

“Draco?”

“Fine. But, I think it’s a bad idea.”

“Haven’t other people seen it?”

“Yes. But that doesn’t mean—” He stopped. “I don’t want you to see it.”

Astoria withdrew her hand. “That’s okay,” she said, simply, brightly, so he would know that he didn’t have to.

He stared at her a long time, before he sighed and held out his left arm to her, as though he couldn’t bear to pull the sleeve up himself. She gently slid it up and he inhaled a sharp breath as she looked at the mark, the twisted form of the snake and skull faded to a dull color against the alabaster of his skin. She lightly skimmed her fingers over it and he shuddered, dropping his head to rest against her shoulder, burying his face in the crook of her neck as she cradled the arm in her lap.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “This won’t ruin my life and it doesn’t have to ruin yours.” He lifted his head, and she noticed his grey eyes were like storm clouds today, cryptic, conflicted, and looking as though rain was to burst forth at any moment. She touched the side of his face gently, cupping it and bringing her lips to his, kissing him softly.

“Astoria,” he whispered when she pulled away. He looked like he desperately wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

“Just breathe. This doesn’t have to change anything. I’ll deal with whatever happens.” He nodded, gratefully, and she tried to ignore the twist in her heart, that he didn’t seem to be able to say anything more to her.

He stood and Astoria asked, sure, though she didn’t feel it. “I’ll see you tomorrow after I get off?”

He smirked and she wanted to sigh in relief. Smirking was a good sign.

“I’ll be there. Wear a skirt,” he teased.

“No. I think I’ll wear slacks tomorrow.”

“You don’t own any,” he said, laughing. This was true.

“I’ll borrow some of yours.”

“As appealing as you wearing my clothes sounds, I’m afraid I can’t spare you any. I like the skirts too much.”

Astoria threw a pillow at him, which he dodged effortlessly.

* * *

Astoria had spent the past week glancing at every copy of the Prophet and every gossip column known to wizardkind and had seen nothing.

Now, having chased away her worries, deciding that Draco was wrong and the picture wasn’t interesting enough to publish, she was debating whether or not to take her lunch break now or wait.

Just then, Ginny Weasley walked into her office. “Hey. He in?”

Astoria nodded, not looking up from the report she was synthesizing. A few moments later, she came back out and was halfway out the door before she turned around.

“Hey. I’m meeting with some friends for lunch. Hermione will be there. Do you want to join?”

No.

“I do, but I’m insanely busy.”

“No! It’s no problem. I’ll tell Harry to give you a break.”

Stop.

“No! You don’t have to do that. Really!”

“Relax! Harry won’t care. I don’t think he even notices you’re here half the time.”

Great. _He ought to notice, as I do half his job_ , thought Astoria.

Ginny was through his door before Astoria could stop her, and she was out again, fetching Astoria’s cloak.

She was sitting in a café not far from the Ministry, with the Patil twins, Lovegood, Ginny, and Granger. She was miserable and glancing at the clock every few seconds.

Granger was showing off her engagement ring, and Astoria complimented it politely, though she couldn’t quite muster the squeals the Patil twins were giving.

“He was an absolute idiot about it though. He told me the joke shop was robbed to try and divert my attention, can you believe it?” Granger said, shaking her head.

“Harry was too. I swear, he looked so nervous I’d thought he was going to faint,” Ginny said. Astoria glanced at the clock again. Ten minutes? How had it only been ten minutes. She couldn’t leave after just ten minutes, could she? No, definitely not.

Astoria ordered tea. Yes, just tea. She could drink it quickly and get out. If the waitress would hurry.

“Terry Boot asked me out. I said—” Padma broke off, looking startled. “Oh. Sorry, Astoria.”

Astoria had been barely paying attention, and she turned to look at Padma. She hadn’t thought about Terry in what felt like forever. How could she? She had far better options to divert her attention.

“What? Oh. Don’t worry about it,” Astoria said, distractedly.

Then, she saw it. Underneath the vase of flowers, where a stack of magazines were sitting on the center of the table, she spotted the cover of Rita Skeeter’s new personal self-published gossip magazine, one that only released once a month. And on that cover, was her. Not just her, of course. Her getting one of the best kisses of her life, in a picture that looked far from appropriate, from none other than Draco Malfoy.

With horror, she glanced around at the tables. There was one on every single table. She didn’t care if people knew, of course. She wasn’t exactly looking to hide it. But, she hadn’t planned on announcing it in front of Granger and Ginny.

“What about you, Astoria?” Parvarti asked, leaning forward. Astoria jumped.

“What about me?” she asked, panicked.

“Seeing anyone new?”

Everyone turned to her, and Astoria realized that no one knew yet. They hadn’t asked her here as an ambush, though it may quickly turn into one.

“Yes,” Astoria said, carefully. “I have been for a while now.”

“Who?” asked Ginny.

“A curse-breaker,” Astoria said, instead of supplying a name.

“My brother does that.”

“Does he? Tell me about him,” Astoria said, desperately latching onto the change of subject. Out of the corner of her eye, at a table across the restaurant, she saw two witches glance down at the magazine, and then back at her. One of them gasped, and whispered, while the other craned her neck to get a better look, glasses sliding down her nose.

One of them got up. Astoria grabbed her purse and her cloak.

“Where are you going? You don’t have to leave so quickly. Your tea hasn’t even—” Granger began, no doubt assuming it was nerves due to being in the presence of herself. Typical.

“Excuse me,” the witch said, as she pushed her glasses back up. “Are you Astoria Greengrass?”

“Yes. But, I’m terribly busy, so I’m afraid I’ll have to—”

“Is it true?” she asked, accusingly.

“Is what true?” Astoria tried, playing dumb, as she attempted to skirt around the witch.

“What Skeeter wrote?” Astoria watched as the witch tapped the magazine on the table and heard Granger’s startled gasp.

“I haven’t actually read the article, so I wouldn’t—”

The witch pushed Astoria back into her seat. “I’ll read it to you, then.”

The witch picked up the magazine and read aloud.

_You may not know who Astoria Greengrass is, and I don’t blame you. I’d never heard of the girl. But, when I saw her locked in a Death Eater’s embrace, enthusiastically, might I add, several questions came to mind._

_First, what sort of person would you have to be to have stolen, steamy encounters with someone who’s had two attempted murders under their belt before they were seventeen, and a Dark Mark to boot, in some dark, back alley?_

_Second, why exactly has she resorted to such foul, though undeniably attractive, men?_

_Third, could she have possibly nefarious motives?_

_Well, I’ll share the answers to those questions that yours truly has managed to dig up, though it was quite difficult._

_Astoria Greengrass started out with a bright future ahead of her. With an impressive academic record and graduating near top of her class at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, one would have expected her to go far._

_However, after a falling out with her family, she found herself alone on the streets, without a penny to her name. But, that is by no means the end to the skeletons in her closet._

_According to her former fiancé, Terry Boot, Greengrass is hiding a blood malediction, or to put it simply, a terrible curse. Boot tells us that “she tried to trap me into marriage. Little did I know, she’s got this horrible blood-borne curse! I proposed to her and she accepted, and then, not five minutes later started trying to explain to me that she had some sort of execration.”_

_It seems, that heartbreakingly, Miss Greengrass is destined for a short life. Terry also informed us that “she said she couldn’t have children, or that if she tried, it would be bad for her health. I want a wife and I want kids. It wasn’t fair for her to mislead me like that. She always told me she wanted children, but didn’t know if she’d be able to have them, but she never fully explained the real issue behind why, so when she told me, I felt blind-sided. Not to mention, those curses can be passed down. I don’t want my kid carrying something like that.”_

_With no fiancé, and no money, it seemed Astoria Greengrass did what all women of her status do. She found the first wealthy man she could and sold her body for money. She didn’t care what Mr. Malfoy had done, or who he had hurt, she just wanted galleons._

_Now, a few who know of her, may wonder then, why she works an entry-level position at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement if she has found a rich, though evil, man to take care of her._

_Well, dear readers, I fear it is something far worse than you may be prepared to believe._

_Astoria Greengrass is a spy working for the last few remaining Death Eaters. Perhaps her body was not enough, and Draco Malfoy required she spy for his most awful organization. Or, perhaps she simply wanted to on her own. After all, she is from a family known for having views of pure-blood supremacy, despite their lack of involvement in the war._

_Of course, this begs the question, if Miss Greengrass is willing to sleep with Death Eaters, then who else—_

Ginny Weasley had torn the magazine from the witch’s hands, and said, “We can read it ourselves, thank you.” Astoria was afraid that’s what they were going to do, and though Ginny and Granger didn’t exactly look like they were about to yell at her, she couldn’t be sure. Wondering what on earth she was still doing there, she left the café, ignoring Granger calling after her, not in the least bit interested in what she had to say.

That had been bad. Draco had been right. That was far worse than anything she’d imagined they would print.

She made her way back to her office on shaking legs, wondering if she might take the rest of the day off, or if they would do her one better and fire her. She half hoped they’d fire her.

When she entered, she found Ron Weasley just about to enter Potter’s office, and he sneered at her. Oh no. She should leave. She would grab her things and leave. Potter opened the door and saw her, his expression stony.

He opened his mouth and said, “I’m sorry. I just read the article. Gerfmen’s pissed, but I was able to get him to calm down.” Astoria froze.

“What?”

“Have you not read—”

“I’m aware of the article. I suppose it was printed this morning. I’m just. I’m not fired?”

“No. I can’t deny that I’m not pleased about this. Really not pleased. It’s unprofessional. But, I’m not firing you for…that.”

“It’s unprofessional to have Weasley looking over your cases when he runs a joke shop,” Astoria shot back.

“Oh, don’t start—” Weasley began.

“Ron, let it go,” Harry said, before turning back to her. “Listen, you should go. Come back tomorrow, but leave today. Give the Gerfmen and the Aurors and chance to realize that if they don’t trust what Skeeter writes about anything else, then they shouldn’t trust this,” Potter said, talking over Weasley.

Astoria nodded mutely, collecting her personal items and leaving, fighting tears.

She found herself pacing the floor of her flat and wiping her sweaty palms on her powder-blue silk skirt, unable to cry. 

It wasn’t that she regretted her decision, or that she regretted Draco. It was simply, the awful unfairness of it all. She was half-worried that he might believe some of the stuff in the article, and might label her a gold digger, or worse, suspect she thought that his dark past made him more attractive, as the article seemed to imply.

She threw herself down on her bed, wishing the tears would come. Finally, she stood, and grabbed her wand, apparating to the edge of Malfoy Manor.

She walked up to the door, and knocked, wondering if he was even home. It would take him a long time to get to the door anyway, if he was.

After a few minutes, he opened it, his hair slightly mussed, as though he’d ran his fingers through it several times, and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone. She rushed forward, burying her face in his chest and wrapping her arms around him. He tensed and made a surprised noise, but he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her inside and shutting the door after her. She clutched him, hands fisted in his shirt, as if afraid he would disappear.

“Hey,” he whispered. “What happened?”

“Have you seen it?”

“Zabini sent me a copy. I burned it.”

“I’m not after your money. And, I don’t like you because—”

“Astoria. I know. Okay?” She took a shuddering breath, as he sighed and pulled her closer.

“I’m sorry, Astoria. I should have been more careful, and I should have left you alone,” Draco said, dropping his forehead to rest against her own.

“No! That’s why I came here! To tell you, that as awful as that article is, I still meant what I said. I—” She stopped. Suddenly, incredibly nervous. “I still want you. I won’t say that I don’t care what everyone thinks, because I can’t say I like being slandered, but if that’s the price I have to pay, then I’d pay it. Again. And, again.”

“Astoria—” Draco began, shaking his head.

“Not being with you would hurt me more than any Skeeter article ever could,” Astoria confessed.

Draco leaned down and kissed her softly, and tenderly, as though he was afraid the might break her. He pulled back. “Come on. I don’t want to have this conversation standing in a hallway,” he said, wrapping an arm around her pulling her to him, walking with her to his study. It was a long trip, and Astoria’s heart was hammering, and she wondered whether he could feel it.

They reached it, and he pushed open the door. Astoria saw that he’d been working, as there was a suspicious looking dagger surrounded by papers and books. He packed the dagger away, careful not to touch it, and then stowed the papers and books away neatly, before turning to her, smiling softly.

“Come here,” he said, and Astoria walked toward him, letting him capture her lips again, gently, as he positioned her between the desk and himself, her back pressing into the smooth wood.

“You should be at work, shouldn’t you? Did they let you go?” he whispered, brows furrowing.

“No. Harry sent me home, but he said he wasn’t going to fire me. He was just being nice, I think, giving me some time.”

“Harry?” Draco asked, a slight edge to his voice, his grip tightening slightly on her waist.

“He calls me by my first name. I didn’t mean it like that,” Astoria said, shaking her head.

“I don’t like that you work for him,” Draco said, his voice dropping a pitch.

“It’s my job,” Astoria said, sighing.

“Quit,” Draco pleaded, pressing himself against her, and she could feel every contour of his body.

“I need the money,” Astoria said, tiredly. What she didn’t say, was that there was no way anyone else was hiring her after that Skeeter article.

Draco smirked. “I’ll pay you thrice what Potter pays you to prance around my office in your pretty skirts. I’ll even let you color code my calendar and organize my quills.” His hand drops to play with the hem of the skirt that rests against her thigh. Astoria looked backwards at his desk, the very same one she was pressed against, and found that his desk was already meticulously neat.

“I can’t do that,” Astoria said, laughing.

“You can. I mean it. Work for me. No, work _with_ me. I could use a partner and you and I both know you are far too talented to be wasting yourself at the DMLE.”

“Curse-breaking?”

“Yes. We’ll travel and I’ll teach you. You’re halfway qualified already,” he insisted.

“As your secretary?”

“Please,” Draco scoffed. “You’d be wasted at a job like that. My partner, Astoria.”

“A partner?” she asked, smiling.

“In more ways than one,” he said, seriously. Could he mean what she thought he meant?

“What of your various different casual relationships?” she asked, teasingly, though her heart was racing as she nervously awaited the answer. He smirked at her question.

“None are quite so entertaining, nor do they look as good in skirts as you. I think I’m willing to put those days behind me. On one condition,” he said.

“What condition?” asked Astoria, nervously, blushing slightly.

“Kiss me.”

“I have to kiss you for the job,” Astoria asked, eyebrows raised.

“The job is yours whether or not you kiss me. I meant whether or not I embrace monogamy. If I’m being honest, I haven’t even contacted them since the first time I kissed you.” 

Astoria smiled. “Surely this will interfere with our working relationship.” 

“I plan on it interfering quite a bit,” he said, smirk deepening, as his hands slid up and down her frame, a pleasant and somewhat frightening feeling. Terry had never elicited this sort of reaction from her. 

“Are you asking to sleep with me?” blurted Astoria, suddenly very nervous. His hands stilled, though a large part of her wanted them to keep moving.

“Astoria. Darling. I’m asking to be with you. In whatever way you will allow. Though I cannot deny the appeal of having you,” he said, smiling.

Astoria blushed and her smiled widened. He wanted to be with her? “You want to—”

“See you. Court you. Date you. Boyfriend, partner, _lover._ ” He pressed into her more firmly, tugging her closer, as he enunciated the last word, smirking. “Whatever you want to call it.”

Astoria grinned at first excited, and then, her heart twisted, as she realized what she now had to do, what she always had to do.

“Yes. Of course. It’s just…Draco. Are you aware of my, um. My curse?” she asked, voice trailing away to almost nothing. He must know by now, as apparently everyone did. But, she felt the need to remind him. He had to understand. Perhaps Terry had been right. Perhaps she had told him too late. She’s only been trying to make sure he was serious about her, that she could trust him, before she had told him, but maybe—

Draco put a finger under her chin, tilting her face up to look at him, pulling her from her thoughts.

He only shook his head at her, grinning. “I must say, hearing Boot debate aloud whether your mouth made up for your malediction was not the way I wanted to find out, but I would say I’m most definitely aware,” he said, his hand flexing slightly, as though remembering breaking Boot’s nose.

Astoria frowned. “So, you decided my mouth was worth it?”

“No. I decided _you_ were worth it. Though your mouth is an added benefit.”

Astoria felt happier in this moment then she had in her entire life. She reached up, placing her arms around his neck, and ran her fingers through his hair.

“Okay,” she said, beaming.

“To what? Kissing me? Being with me? Working with me?”

“All three. In that order,” Astoria said.

He smiled, but then coughed awkwardly, and Astoria noticed that he looked slightly nervous, uncharacteristic of him.

“Astoria, are you aware of my past? I know you know about the mark, but you should—”

“Draco. You come up quite a bit at the DMLE,” she said, joking her euphoria making it incredibly hard to remain serious. His expression formed into a brave sort of grimace, and Astoria softened her smile. “I’ve decided you’re worth it too. In case you were wondering.” The worry vanished from his face and his eyes darkened. 

He leaned down and kissed her, in a way that melted her insides and weakened her knees; the kiss was burning and passionate, and everything she’d dreamed of and only felt with him. His hands gripped her waist tightly and his teeth scraped her lip, as a hand dropped to her thigh, making her gasp, and allowing his tongue to slip into her mouth. Draco made a low, delicious sound in the back of his throat as Astoria’s hands trailed down his chest.

He pulled back for air and smirked at her, in a way that was far more wicked than she had seen before.

“Hm. Boot was wrong. That alone definitely makes up for it,” he said, leaning down and kissing her again, softer this time, but there was no less heat behind it, and as his hand inched farther up her thigh, she became increasingly nervous.

“Draco, I’ve never um. Terry and I. We didn’t—” Astoria began, pulling back from him.

“Relax. You already kiss better than any witch I’ve had. I’m sure your talents will be adequate,” he teased.

She hid her face in his shoulder. “But—”

“Astoria. Don’t worry. You tell me when you’re ready and I’ll take care of it,” he said, his eyes flashing with a desire that Astoria reveled in.

“Won’t you get tired of—” she began, unsurely.

“Waiting? No. I’m not a person who likes to rush things. Trust me.”

He kissed her again, slow and scorching, thorough and torrid, and Astoria was left breathless, unable to imagine any reality where she was not with him. After a kiss such as that, she wasn’t sure whether she would be able to wait herself.

* * *

“I’m going to write Potter and quit,” she announced, later that evening, as she rested on a ostentatious looking couch with her head in Draco’s lap, as he went over complicated runes with her.

“Do so. And, write to your landlord. You’re moving.”

“Draco—”

“We’ll be travelling far too much for you to justify keeping the place. You’ll stay here in the meantime,” Draco said, tone commanding. Astoria smiled.

“Alright. I’ll pack tomorrow,” Astoria said, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. Draco caught one, bringing it to his lips and kissing her knuckles.

“Bring your skirts,” he said, smirking.

_Dear Mr. Harry Potter,_

_I am writing to send you my official resignation from my position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I would like to thank you, and no one else. You were the only barely tolerable person I worked with. As for Gerfmen and the rest of the DMLE, tell them from me where they can stick it. I won’t be giving a two-weeks’ notice, and for that I’m sorry. My new job requires me to leave for Morocco right away, and I don’t have time nor the desire to suffer for two weeks more. The report from yesterday is inside the top desk drawer. You have an appointment with the Minister tomorrow at 4 p.m._

_Astoria Greengrass,_

_Public Disgrace and Soon to Be Freelance Curse-Breaker_


End file.
